


Life is about detours

by bluejbird



Series: Interconnected [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe - TiMER Fusion, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejbird/pseuds/bluejbird
Summary: Leonard somehow isn't surprised that his TiMER is due to zero out the day he heads to Starfleet. He's not even that surprised when his soulmate turns out to be the bruised and bloodied man sitting next to him on the shuttle. Mostly he's surprised by how not on board Jim seems to be with the whole idea. But that's okay. Leonard can do the whole being friends thing instead. Really, he can.Or, the one where Bones and Jim have TiMERs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm been wanting to write a TiMER AU for many years, in many fandoms, and it never quite stuck until now.

Since Leonard is the one who suggests they get TiMERs, it’s really all his own fault. 

It’s a last ditch attempt to save their marriage. He’s tried as hard as he’s capable of, which if you ask Jocelyn isn’t half as much as it should be. Life for a trauma surgeon isn’t exactly bluebirds flying over rainbows, and as much as he tries to tell himself that Jocelyn walked into this life with her eyes wide open, he knows that she expected something...different. Someone different. 

But he loves her and he wants to prove to her that they’re meant to be together, that they’re soulmates. So he gets someone else to cover his shift and surprises her with lunch at her favourite restaurant. 

She looks beautiful, dark hair curling around her cheeks, blue eyes sparkling as they lift a glass to toast to nothing in particular. This, he thinks, is what she wants. To be swept off her feet. To be wooed, to be spoilt. Unfortunately, Leonard knows he can give her time, or money, but not both. Until recently, she’d seemed content with the money part. But he’s felt her pulling away for months now. 

When they’re finished eating, they stroll past the shops, and he pretends to see the TiMER shop for the first time. 

“Hey,” he says, nudging her hip with his own. “Let’s get one.”

Jocelyn rolls her eyes. “Come on, Leo,” she says, tucking her hand into his elbow. “I’d rather go and look at shoes.”

Leonard plants his feet, refuses to budge. He smiles at her, but it feels serious, something he should be somber about. 

“I mean it,” he says. “We should get one. They say it barely hurts, and then we’d know we’re meant to be together forever. That this is worth…”

He trails off because he can’t say, “Fighting for,” because then it’ll sound like he’s having as many doubts as she is. 

Jocelyn gives him a long searching look, then her shoulders slump a little. 

“Okay,” she says, and he holds the door for her, like the gentleman he is. 

It’s fairly straightforward, signing up. Leonard pays the credits, and volunteers to go first. 

When they come at him with the gun, he tries not to flinch. The girl holding it is a bit too perky, too enthusiastic, and her voice grates on him. So he looks at Jocelyn as the TiMER is inserted into his wrist. 

She doesn’t look back. Which is good, he tries to tell himself, because it means she doesn’t see the wince of pain. But he wishes she’d look at his face again instead of at his wrist. 

He hops up, letting Jocelyn sit down and they both pause, waiting for his TiMER to spring to life. 

It takes a moment, and Leonard holds his breath until it feels like his lungs are burning. 

And then it flashes up: --d --h --m --s

Blank. Which means his soulmate doesn’t have a TiMER. Yet. 

He looks up at Jocelyn, smiling, and it makes his heart twinge to see she looks almost...disappointed. As if she’d been expecting it to show a soulmate he’d meet in weeks or months or years from now. A soulmate who was someone else. 

Leonard shakes the feeling off, and she smiles at him. 

“Well,” she says, lowering herself into the chair. “I guess it’s my turn, then.”

She yelps a bit when the TiMER bites into her skin, and Leonard holds her hand, letting her grip it tightly through the pain. Just like he’d expected to do one day, but in a delivery room instead of a retail store. He wonders if that’s part of the problem between them; the inability to conceive, the missing bundle of joy from their supposedly happy home. He feels it sometimes when he walks past the room that would have been the nursery, like a wedge driven between them. 

He continues holding her hand as her TiMER flashes to life. 

He waits for both of their TiMERs to chime, just like he’s seen on the advertisements. 

But nothing happens to his. 

Jocelyn’s, however, flashes up with: 0127d  6h 34m 43s

The perky girl, who has been babbling at them since they sat down, stops talking and clears her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, and disappears. 

Neither of them say anything. 

Then Jocelyn’s hand falls away from Leonard’s, and it’s the last time they ever touch. 

She asks him to move out that night. He shouldn’t have to – it’s his salary that pays the mortgage, after all, that bought the furniture, and the food in the kitchen, and everything else they own. But he does it anyway. 

It’s bad enough to have suspected she didn’t love him anymore, but to not be wanted, to know it, and to stick around? He has to go. 

He packs a bag of everything that’s important to him. His father’s medical PADD, with all of his casenotes in it. Some holos that his mother sent him, of happier days in his youth. His favourite jacket. In reality, there’s not much that feels like it belongs to him in the house, and perhaps that’s something he should have realised a long time ago. 

She doesn’t even look up when he says goodbye, and he wonders for a moment why he even married her in the first place, outside of family pressure. 

Leonard stops at the hospital to hand in his notice, effective immediately. His boss protests, not because he likes Leonard, but because he’s the one of the best damn trauma surgeons on the continent and he’s leaving them short staffed. It says a lot that Leonard doesn’t really care anymore. 

He travels around for a few months, not doing a whole lot of anything. He checks his TiMER every so often, but it’s still blank and flashing, still taunting him. 

He wonders if there is someone out there for him, or if his will be blank forever, mocking him silently, letting him know he’ll always be alone. So most nights he drinks until the characters on it become a blur and he can’t read them. It doesn’t help, but that doesn’t matter. 

The divorce papers arrive the day before Jocelyn’s TiMER times out, and he signs them without reading them. He just wants it to be over. Later, when his mother finds out and yells at him for giving away everything that was his to give – the house, the heirlooms inside it, all of the credits in his account – he thinks he should be angry at Jocelyn, but he can’t bring himself to bother. 

The next day he spends in bed at the seedy motel room, drinking whatever is in reach, and throwing it all back up again. He hopes that Jocelyn’s soulmate – whoever they are – treats her the way she wants to be treated. 

And he hopes that his soulmate is out there, and isn’t as big an asshole as him. 

A week later, he’s running seriously short on credits when a man sits beside him at the bar, and slides a drink in front of him. 

“You’re Leonard McCoy,” the man says. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Leonard snarls, angrier than he means to be. “I’ve already given her everything she wants. What is it now? Did I forget to initial one of the papers?”

The man blinks at him for a moment, then thoughtfully sips his drink, motioning for Leonard to do the same. He’s not one to turn down free booze, so he tosses it back. 

“My name is Christopher Pike,” the man says, giving Leonard a level look, then motioning for the bartender to bring another round. “Starfleet Captain Christopher Pike.”

Leonard takes a good look at the man for the first time. He’s dressed in what he imagines Starfleet call civvies, or something equally asinine, but there’s something about the way he carries himself that should have made Leonard figure it out sooner. 

“Nice to meet you,” Leonard says insincerely, taking the second drink. This one he nurses, rolling the glass in his fingers before taking a sip. It’s good quality stuff – better than he’s been able to afford recently. “Thanks,’ he adds, raising the glass in Pike’s direction. That part he means. 

“I’ve been doing some research on you,” Pike says, “and you’re a damn fine surgeon who just quit his job suddenly.”

“I did indeed.” Leonard braces himself for questions. 

Instead, Pike says, “So it seems to me, you might be looking for a new career.”

“You’ve come to offer me a job?” Leonard asks in disbelief. He’d been contacted a few times, right after he’d quit. There’s still enough disease and injury in the world that people like him are prized, even if they’ve proven themselves to be unreliable. 

Pike chuckles. “Not exactly. I’ve come to offer you a future.”

While Leonard finishes his drink, Pike explains what he’s offering – three years at Starfleet Academy. An accelerated course that will get him up to speed on everything he needs to know about the Federation, life in space, xenobiology and diplomacy. 

Leonard snorts at the last one. “Not my strong suit,” he says. “And I’m not exactly wanting a career in space. Aviophobia, astraphobia, probably a whole bunch more fears I haven’t even thought of yet.”

“We have positions here on Earth,” Pike tells him. “And on other planets, if you’re willing to go that far. Besides, it might surprise you, once you get out there. It’s kind of addictive.”

They both stare at the empty glass in Leonard’s hand, and he puts it down with a thunk. 

“What’s the catch?” Leonard asks, because what the hell. It’s worth considering.

“No catch,” Pike says, then hesitates. “Well. You’d be working shifts at Starfleet Medical, scheduled around classes of course, with plenty of time for study and a little recreation.”

“And?”

Pike holds up his hands, shaking his head. “That’s it. The only catch. Three years at the Academy, free ride, free room and board. Paid work at the hospital. And then five years on assignment, which you’ll get your pick of.”

Leonard thinks about it for a moment. Three years of school isn’t bad at all. He liked school, enough to finish college and med school early, enough to throw in a PhD during his residency, just for shits and giggles. Practicing medicine again, which is something he loves and has missed, more than he misses Jocelyn or the life they’d lived, or any of the friends who it turns out weren’t his at all. 

And then five years, possibly in space, but probably planetside. It could be worse. Maybe he’d have time to finally get that PhD in psychology he’s always wanted, and he could always just write himself a note to get out of any space travel anyway, or bully one of the other doctors to do it. 

Leonard shrugs. “Sure,” he says. “I’m in.”

Pike looks surprised. “You’re in,” he says, flatly. 

Leonard raises an eyebrow his way. “Wasn’t that what you wanted me to say?”

Pike smiles, and gives a genuine laugh. “Sure, but I expected more of a battle. I had a whole speech planned about living up to your potential.”

“Save it for someone else,” Leonard says, and takes down all of the information he needs about what to do next. It’s straightforward – show up in Riverside, Iowa, in a week’s time, and don’t look back. 

That night, he goes back to the motel and fills the flask that had once belonged to his father with the best Kentucky bourbon he can afford, and throws the rest away. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it sober, and he’s not going to give himself the chance to chicken out. 

And then: Bo-do-doop!

He glances down at his wrist. His TiMER has lit up, and there are numbers there now, and his vision blurs. There’s a surge of happiness in his heart – he does have a soulmate, there is someone out there for him. 

Leonard rubs at his eyes, then squints at the numbers.

0006d 01h 13m 32s

One week. His TiMER will zero out the night before he has to report to the Starfleet shuttle, that will take him away to his new life. 

Which means now he really can’t chicken out. 

The week passes. Leonard gets himself to Riverside, considers going out drinking at a bar the night before, just because. He even walks up to the door, but when he looks in, it’s full of red uniforms – cadets, he now knows, and he tries to imagine himself in the uniform and fails. 

So he turns around and goes back to the room he’s rented, and tries not to stare at his TiMER. He’s been glancing at it obsessively all week, watching the numbers count down. There’s a part of him that is waiting for it to go blank again, to short out, maybe fall off his fucking arm. Anything that will prove his luck is as bad as he thinks it is, that he doesn’t actually deserve this. 

When he’s not worrying, he wonders about his soulmate. Who she is. Or he is. He’s not particularly fussy in that regard. He does wonder what they’ll look like, whether he’ll find them attractive. Whether they’ll find  _ him _ attractive. He wonders if he should get a haircut, or shave, or get some fresh clothes, but decides not to bother. Whoever this sucker is, this poor soul who’s destined to be stuck with him, will just have to take him as he comes. Leonard had pretended to be someone who he wasn’t for a long time. If this is a fresh start, he’s going to be himself from the beginning. 

Leonard wonders why his soulmate chose that day to get a TiMER. He wonders how they felt when they saw how soon they’d meet. 

He wonders if they’re as nervous as he is. 

He stays awake long enough to see the countdown zero out, bleeping into the darkness. 

In the morning he rises, nerves twisting his stomach into knots. He can’t remember a time when he’s ever been this nervous. His medical board exams, his wedding day, hell, even the last moments with his father. None of those had been this nerve wracking. 

Today he’ll have a new life and, if everything goes to plan, a new love. 

He gets to the shuttle early, and immediately chickens out. He avoids eye contact with as many people as possible, relief rushing through his veins every minute that his TiMER stays silent. Inside the shuttle, he ignores the seat he’s supposed to sit in, and instead locks himself in the bathroom and tries not to hyperventilate. 

Someone knocks on the door and he pretends not to hear it. Leonard puts his head between his knees and asks himself what the hell he’s doing. He can’t join Starfleet. He can’t meet his soulmate. He can’t do any of these things, and he doesn’t know why he thought he could. 

Eventually, someone overrides the door controls and bustles him out. He argues with her, babbling about his aviophobia – which is the least of his worries right now. 

“Sit down, or I’ll make you sit down,” she says, and he’s glad she isn’t his soulmate because she scares him a little. 

“Fine,” Leonard huffs out, and takes the only free seat. He fusses with the restraint, casting his eyes around the other cadets and wannabees. The man beside him is looking away, but he’s in casual clothes like Leonard, and judging by the cuts and bruises on what he can see of the man’s face, he’s having an even worse day than Leonard. 

As he adjust the straps on the restraint, he feels the other man’s gaze on him. 

“I may throw up on you,” Leonard says, because his stomach is doing its best to turn inside out and he doesn’t know if it’s fear of flying, fear of the unknown, or lack of booze and food, but it’s a real possibility. 

Their eyes meet. 

Leonard’s TiMER chimes, over and over and over again, and he can feel everyone staring at him now. 

At Leonard and the man beside him. 

“...I think these things are pretty safe,” the man says, then shakes his head. He stares down at the TiMER on his wrist, and then back at Leonard. “I mean, that’s what I was about to say. Um.”

He stops talking and just stares.

Leonard stares back. 

The rest of the shuttle talk quietly amongst themselves, the noise rising louder and louder until the only silence is what stretches between Leonard and this man. 

His soulmate. 

“I need a drink,” Leonard says, and fishes the flask from his pocket. He hadn’t expected to need it so soon, but he’s glad he brought it now. He takes a swig then holds it out to the man. If they’re soulmates, he needs to get used to sharing everything with him, even his good booze. 

The other man takes it, still looking shellshocked. “Jim Kirk,” he says, and takes a long drink. 

“McCoy,’ Leonard says. “Leonard McCoy.”

Jim hands the flask back, and Leonard stares at it, turning it over his his hands. It has his father’s initials on it, and he looks at them so he doesn’t have to look at Jim. 

“So,” Jim says. “I...don’t really know what to say right now.”

“Me neither.”

The shuttle takes off, and Leonard closes his eyes, trying not to think about how they’re flying through the air, about all of the ridiculous things that can go wrong and kill them all in an instant. Just when he’s met his soulmate. 

“I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space,” Jim says, and Leonard opens his eyes to narrow them at him. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve got nowhere else to go,” Leonard says. “The ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce. All I’ve got left is my bones.”

Jim shoots him an amused look. “Bitter divorce, huh?” he asks, leaning back in his seat. “Is that the reason for–” he taps his fingers against the TiMER on Leonard’s wrist, and Leonard shivers, even though Jim hasn’t touched his skin. 

“The cause of it, actually,” he replies. He looks at Jim for a long moment. “What the hell,” he adds, and tells Jim all about Jocelyn. Jim makes noises in all the right places, asks questions that are just on the acceptable side of nosey. And Leonard keeps talking. 

By the time he’s finished, the shuttle is landing, and he wonders if Jim kept him talking on purpose. 

“What about you?” he asks, nodding at Jim’s TiMER. He’s not brave enough to reach out and tap it as Jim had done. Leonard thinks it’d be too hard not to wrap his fingers around Jim’s wrist and check for a pulse, to make sure he’s real. 

Jim undoes his safety restraints. “Some other time,” he says, clapping Leonard on the shoulder as he stands. “I’ll see you around, Bones,” he adds, and merges with everyone else rushing to get off the shuttle. 

Leonard stares after him. With everything he’d wondered and imagined, he hadn’t pictured this – a soulmate eager to get away from him. He’d expected something, well. More. What, exactly, he didn’t know. But, at the very least, he’d expected Jim to not run away the first chance he got. 

He tries to follow Jim, to keep him in his sights, to catch up with him and ask him what the hell he’s doing, and what’s going to happen next. But he’s not quick enough. Instead he watches the blond head disappear into the crowd, then gives up and falls into line with another bunch of new recruits. 

Leonard stands in never-ending queues. To get his uniform. To get a shave and haircut. To get his class schedule. To get his rule book, to be read and examined in two days time. To get his official PADD, containing all of his class readings. To get his shuttle pass for Starfleet Medical. 

Pike walks over just as Leonard reaches the front of the queue for dorm allocations, and says something to the officer manning the station. They talk in quiet whispers, turned away so Leonard can’t overhear or read lips. Then the officer types something into the computer, and it spits out his room information. 

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Pike says, falling into step beside Leonard. 

Leonard frowns for a moment, wondering if Pike had expected him not to show up. Then he catches Pike’s gaze towards his wrist. 

“Oh,” Leonard says, trying to hide it and not drop everything he’s holding at the same time. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Jim Kirk,” Pike muses. He gives Leonard a thoughtful look. “Well, life certainly won’t be dull for the two of you.”

“Sir?” Leonard says, pleased with himself for remembering how to address the captain appropriately. 

Pike shakes his head slowly. “Let’s just say he has a big legacy to live up to, and a chip on his shoulder that’s even bigger than yours.”

And then he nods once, and disappears off into the crowd. 

Leonard watches him go, then finds a quiet corner to power up his PADD. A quick search tells him everything he needs to know. Jim is the Kelvin baby. Son of a hero. There’s also very little information out there on Jim’s life up until this point, but judging by the blood on Jim’s shirt and growing black eye that Leonard had itched to heal on the shuttle, Jim probably didn’t live a quiet life. 

His suspicions are confirmed when a group of cadets walk pass him, gossiping amongst themselves.

“Did you hear about Mitchell?” one of them asks another. “He got suspended.”

“The year hasn’t even started yet,” cadet number two replies, rolling his eyes. “What happened?”   
  


“Fight with that Kirk kid in some bar. Pike walked in at the wrong time. Seems like he’s got a soft spot for losers.”

Leonard stands up and follows after them, keeping a safe distance, but close enough to listen in. 

Cadet number three snorts. “Soft enough to cover up a police record,” he says. “My girlfriend works in admissions, and apparently he’s a major fuck up. Barely finished school. Been in and out of juvie and jail. Kirk doesn’t belong here.”

“He’ll fail out before winter,” cadet number one predicts. “And if he doesn’t, we’ll help him make the decision to leave.”

They all laugh and turn off towards one of the campus buildings. Leonard keeps going, towards where he thinks his dorm is. He doesn’t like the look of the cadets – Leonard knows the type, bullies who prop themselves up by pushing others down, and he has no respect for people like that. But if what they’re saying is true...Leonard is already a major fuck up himself, so how can he be tied to another one? How can they do anything but drag each other down?

He looks at his TiMER and swears, wishing he’d never gotten it in the first place. If he hadn’t, maybe he’d be back in Atlanta, miserable in a marriage he knew was failing, adequately busy with a job he loved in a place he hated surrounded by people he could barely tolerate. But at least it wasn’t unknown. Not like this. 

He even considers just turning around, getting on the first shuttle to anywhere but here. But by then he’s at his dorm and he’s tired, ready for a shower and a long sleep, and maybe some food in the cafeteria across the quad. 

Leonard keys in his passcode and the door slides open. He takes three steps inside. 

He thinks about Pike talking to the dorm allocation officer. 

“Fucking Pike,” he says. 

Jim sits up from where he’s been sprawled on one of the room’s twin beds. His smile is wary when he sees Leonard, but also almost pleased. 

“Fucking Pike,” Jim agrees, and Leonard doesn’t know what to do, other than throw his shit on the floor and claim the empty bed as his own. 

~~~ 

They go and get dinner together because Leonard’s stomach starts to rumble at about the same time Jim’s does, and it’s the sensible thing to do. The easy thing too. They fill their trays and Jim leads them over to a table with a couple of free seats and charms the occupants into letting them sit down. 

Leonard mostly eats, watching how easy it is for Jim to talk to new people, how quickly they warm to him. It’s impressive to watch, and he knows he’s staring, but there’s a charm to Jim, something that pulls people in, and Leonard is no exception. 

They make a dozen new friends over dinner, and by the time everyone wanders back to their dorms they’ve made promises to attend parties, to sit together in class, to meet for lunch the next day. It isn’t exactly what Leonard had planned – he was going to keep to himself, make acquaintances who’d be useful if needed, but never close. There’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach – change and the unknown, he suspects – but he finds himself almost looking forward to seeing those people again. 

By the time they’re back in their room, the easy warmth has ebbed away from Jim, and he’s silent and cold again. And it makes Leonard’s heart clench when he realises that Jim’s easy charm is turned on for everyone but him. 

“We should talk,” he says, sitting on his desk chair.

Jim sighs and nods, and sits on the foot of his bed. 

They stare at each other, and Leonard prepares for the most awkward conversation he’s ever had. 

“I don’t think either of us expected this,” he says, waving his hands between them, and then around to encompass everything. “I don’t think either of us planned for it. And I don’t think either of us are expecting fucking fairy tales and flowers.”

Jim doesn’t say anything, but Leonard can see his shoulders relax minutely. 

“I don’t think I’m in the right place for romance right now,” Leonard continues. “And judging by the state of you on the shuttle, I don’t think you are either.”

Jim opens his mouth to protest, but Leonard raises a brow and he closes his mouth again. 

“So I’m thinking that maybe these things,” Leonard taps his TiMER with a fingernail, “just tell you when you meet someone who is important to you. A lover, a mentor, a friend. And so let’s start there – friends. Like we just met on the shuttle and have been thrown randomly together, and go from there. Let’s just live our lives however we want, and see where things go.”

“However we want,” Jim echoes. “Do you mean that?”

Leonard shrugs. “I guess it’s the only thing that makes sense, right?”

“So if I go out and bang some random cadet, you won’t care?”

Leonard swallows hard, and schools his face. He pictures Jim with someone else and feels a surge of jealousy that shouldn’t belong to him. It’s an odd feeling to have for a man he’s barely known a handful of hours, and he wonders how much of it is psychosomatic, the presence of the TiMER telling him he should feel this way, and how much is genuine attraction.   

“Is it my place to care? Just because our TiMERs say so, doesn’t mean I own you. Or you me.” 

Jim looks relieved. 

“I’m sorry that I’m not exactly the poster boy for soulmates,” he says. “I just...I got this thing when I was drunk.”

“Oh,” Leonard says flatly. He’d assumed that Jim had wanted to find a soulmate. After all, what was the point in getting one if you didn’t believe, somewhere inside you, that such things existed? 

Jim gives an apologetic smile. “I went out, I got drunk, the next morning, I had this thing on me. I didn’t even really think too much about what it meant, other than that it was counting down and today was either going to be really awesome or really suck.”

“So which is it?” Leonard asks, trying to keep his tone light.

“I don’t know yet,” Jim says. Something must pass unbidden across Leonard’s face because Jim looks horrified and reaches out a hand towards him. “No, no, not you! I just meant...I don’t know if I’m cut out for this, is all.”

“Starfleet?”

Jim nods. “That, and, you know, the whole soulmate thing. I’m not sure why anyone would want me as theirs.”

Leonard snorts. “Join the club, kid. I’ve already had someone I thought was my soulmate reject me. So I think I can handle it if you do, too.”

He’s not exactly telling the truth, but Jim’s gaze softens. 

“Give me time,” he says. “And you take your time, too. I like the idea of being friends. Living life. Seeing where things take us. What do you say, Bones?”

Leonard’s heart swells at the familiarity of the nickname, but he rolls his eyes anyway. 

Jim holds out a hand and Leonard takes it. 

They shake, and Leonard pretends Jim’s touch doesn’t make him shiver. 

~~~ 

It turns out living life, seeing where things take them, mostly means Leonard juggling classes and hospital shifts and passing out whenever he’s in their dorm room, and Jim going out drinking, hooking up with half of the cadet class, and getting into fights that mean Leonard spends his non-studying, non-working, non-sleeping hours patching Jim up. 

It’s not a great life, but it works for them. They bury themselves in their own things, but there’s always something tethering them together. For their first year, it’s a couple of shared classes and their dorm room. 

For their second year, they choose not to room together. Leonard suggests separate rooms, and sees a flash of hurt in Jim’s eyes before he agrees. The idea is that it’ll give them more freedom, the chance to be apart from each other during a busy year of study. In reality, Leonard suggests it so he doesn’t keep walking in on Jim and his latest conquest. He’s seen enough of Jim’s body in snapshots that he can put together a fairly anatomically correct picture in his mind, and it takes all of whatever strength he has left not to use those mental images when he’s jerking off in the shower after a long day. 

He thinks the separation will do them good. 

It doesn’t. They’re both miserable, and it shows when they meet for their weekly dinners, the only time they manage to schedule for each other. Leonard is always tired and grouchy, Jim is always distant and distracted. 

They unanimously decide to move back in together for third year. They get a bigger room, which is nice, and the dark circles under Jim’s eyes disappear. Leonard doesn’t think about why until Jim mentions he sleeps easier with Leonard in the same room. 

Leonard finds it harder to sleep, but that’s only because he’s come to the realisation that he loves Jim. He doesn’t know if it’s a soulmate thing, or if he’d have felt this way if they’d met without the TiMER. But he knows that when he looks at Jim his heart aches with joy, even though there’s a distance between them. 

He doesn’t say anything about it, of course. He’s still waiting for Jim to decide what he wants, for Jim to be ready. So he tries to live his life. He goes on dates; some disastrous, some not so much. And he starts going out drinking with Jim, too, just to have something to do besides work and study. 

Jim catches on pretty quickly that the whole friends and maybe one day more thing doesn’t mean that Leonard is happy to be his wingman. So on the nights they drink together they sit in a booth and watch the crowd and talk. 

One night Jim is all loose limbs and waving hands. Leonard loves Jim when he’s like this. He becomes touchy-feely, and Leonard thinks that when Jim is like this, casual contact could be enough for him for the rest of forever. He watches Jim touch other people, and it’s never anywhere near as much as he touches Leonard. That has to mean something, and even if it’s not romantic love, it’s something pretty close. 

Uhura walks past, throwing a smile at Leonard and a glare at Jim. 

“You know, I thought maybe she was gonna be my soulmate,” Jim says in Leonard’s ear. 

Leonard raises an eyebrow because this is a story Jim has never told before. 

“So I go to this bar,” Jim says. He’s a good storyteller – great facial expressions, wild gestures, turns of phrase that pull you in. “It’s getting late and my TiMER is about to zero out, and I look around and wonder if they’re in there somewhere. And then Uhura comes over to the bar and orders, like, a shit tonne of drinks, and I say something to her about it, and she just shuts me down. And you know me, I like a challenge.”

Leonard rolls his eyes, because he knows exactly what Jim likes, and that makes life all the more frustrating. He compares himself to every one night stand, and every relationship that Jim has. He notes the similarities they share, and he notes the differences. And the longer each relationship lasts, the more he wonders if this is going to be the person that makes Jim remove his TiMER and forget it ever happened, leaving without looking back. 

“So we’re talking, and she’s completely not interested, and I think to myself, I bet its her. I bet she’s my soulmate, and boy is she gonna be disappointed.”

Jim pulls a face, and Leonard frowns at him. He hates when Jim gets like this. Self-deprecating, like he’s not handsome and intelligent and loyal and fearless to a fault. He’s so many things Leonard envies and wishes he could be. 

“Then I get into a fight, and at some point during it, my TiMER zeros out and I wait for it to burble and for Uhura to look horrified. But it doesn’t happen and then Pike shows up. And it doesn’t go off then either, which is a good thing, because I respect that man, but could you imagine how bossy he’d be in bed?”

Leonard doesn’t want to think about it, so he downs the rest of his drink to hopefully prevent a few synapses from firing and storing that thought in his memory. 

“So anyway, Uhura’s not my soulmate,” Jim says with a shrug. “Which is probably a good thing, because I’d piss her off and she’d castrate me. Plus, I still don’t know her first name.”

Leonard does, and it’s a source of constant annoyance to Jim that he won’t share. He starts to smirk, but when he meets Jim’s gaze, it slides right off. 

“I’m glad it’s you, Bones,” Jim says. “I’m really glad it’s you.”

He darts forwards and presses a quick kiss to Leonard’s lips. When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and he’s looking at Leonard like he expects him to explode.

Leonard stares at him for way too long. “Jim,” he says, voice hoarse and rough. He’s disappointed that he didn’t get to kiss Jim back, and he thinks maybe his feelings show on his face far too easily. 

“It’s cool,” Jim says. “I just thought I’d...hey, I spot Gaila over there, and I need to talk to her about something and so I’m gonna go and–”

He’s off and out of the booth like a shot, before Leonard can say anything. Before he can reach for him and pull him in for a proper kiss, the kind he’s been wanting to give Jim for almost three years now. 

From the booth he watches Jim slip between Gaila and another girl. He watches the Orion’s eyes light up, watches her smooth green arms slip around his neck, her red lips press against his mouth. He watches her frown and say something and watches as Jim’s eyes slide towards his booth. 

Leonard looks away quickly, and when he looks back, Jim and Gaila are gone. 

He gives it twenty minutes, which is generally enough time for Jim to stumble out of some back room or alleyway, shirt unbuttoned and hair sticking out at all angles. Then he gives it twenty more, before finally giving up and heading back to their room. 

Jim isn’t there, which is a relief, so he shucks off his clothing and climbs into the shower. He lets the warm water wash over him, and thinks about the press of Jim’s lips against his own. 

Leonard has kissed a decent number of people in his day. There were plenty before Jocelyn, and there’s been a small handful since. He’s had sweet kisses, and sad kisses. Passionate kisses and desperate kisses. Kisses that were stolen when they shouldn’t have been, and kisses that were given freely with the promise of a lifetime of love. 

None of them ever set him alight the way the brief brush of Jim’s lips has done. His mouth still tingles, an hour later, and when he presses his fingers to his lips, trying to re-live the pressure, it sends darts of pleasure all around his body. It stirs something in him, and he reaches down to palm his cock, to tell it to go away, because he can’t think straight. 

He wonders if the kiss has affected Jim this way. If it had been as electrifying to him. And if he was now riding that feeling with Gaila. If he was pressing those lips against hers, against her skin, moving them down her body, tasting and touching the way Leonard yearns for. 

In three years, he’s been careful not to think about Jim, not in moments like this. But the kiss has unleashed the floodgates and he can’t help it. The mental images he has saved of Jim’s body – the planes of his back, the bulge of his biceps, the tautness of thighs and buttocks – come out of the corner of his mind where he’s locked them away, and he lets himself imagine. He imagines Jim coming home, stepping into the bathroom and shucking his clothes. He imagines Jim stepping into the shower, and kissing him, hard and hungry this time, with the water cascading around them. He imagines Jim pressing their bodies together, hard lines and softness in all the right ways. He imagines Jim’s hand wrapping around him, coaxing him to climax, and he imagines panting Jim’s name against his lips as he comes. 

Leonard stands under the shower long after the pleasure has ebbed away and his breath is back to normal. In the moment, it had felt wonderful, and he’d vowed to himself to confront Jim as soon as he came home, to make this a reality, or finally cut whatever ties there might be between them. But after the afterglow, with the water starting to run cold, he can’t bring himself to do it. 

It feels worse, somehow, to have allowed himself to imagine Jim this way. Because he’s scared now of what will happen if Jim says no. If Leonard lays himself out and tells Jim what he really wants, and is denied. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to crawl out of bed in the mornings anymore. And he’s so close to being done with the Academy, so close to reminding Pike that he’d promised him his choice of assignments – which would be right here on Earth, thank you very much, even if he’s been trying to convince himself to follow Jim into space, to stick with his soulmate no matter what – that he can’t risk fucking it all up again. 

He remembers how stupid he’d been with Jocelyn, to believe they had a chance, to coax her into the TiMER store. It had been a mistake, and there are times from the months following that he can barely remember now, which can’t be a good thing. He can’t go through that all again. 

Leonard switches off the water, dries himself, and goes to bed, hoping that Jim will make enough noise to wake him, and let him know he’s home safe. 

When he wakes in the morning, Jim hasn’t come home. So Leonard goes off to his shift and saves some lives and yells at some idiots, and when he comes home he can tell Jim’s been there, but he’s out again. 

All that’s left is a message on his communicator. 

_ Doing Kobayashi maru again tomorrow _ it says. 

Leonard rolls his eyes and heads to the library. And he’s more than a little surprised to run into Jim there. 

“Are you serious?” Leonard asks him. He’s watched Jim try and fail twice now, and everyone in Starfleet knows it’s a no-win scenario. Everyone except Jim. 

Jim looks relieved that Leonard doesn’t bring up the kiss, and starts explaining why he wants to attempt the test again, that he has a plan. 

Leonard knows he doesn’t look convinced. 

“I’ve gotta study,” Jim says, slapping Leonard on the arm, and Leonard tries his best not to lean into the brief touch. He knows he has to do better, to not let it show that he wants it, if it isn’t what Jim wants. 

“Study my ass,” Leonard mutters to himself, watching Jim go. He contemplates not going, not watching Jim fail. 

But of course he goes anyway. And somehow Jim wins. 

His heart leaps when he sees the smug grin on Jim’s face, and that’s the moment he knows he’s well and truly done for. No one should love that look. No one should love that arrogance. But he does. 

Leonard sits beside Jim at the emergency assembly they’re all called to, because it’s where he always sits, and because unlike his insufferably arrogant soulmate, he has a sneaking suspicion that Jim’s win isn’t going to pass without comment. 

  
He hates that he’s right when he sees Jim’s face.

And he hates the look on Jim’s face even more when realisation sets in that he’s grounded. 

Everyone is heading to their shuttles, except Jim. Leonard can’t leave him behind. He can’t fly off into god knows what danger – and he’s trying very, very hard not to think about that – without Jim. Without his friend. Without his soulmate. 

He doesn’t even think about the rules he’s breaking when he takes Jim on board, and then once they’re on the Enterprise, he doesn’t have time to think. Jim is off and running, and Leonard doesn’t know why but he trusts him. He follows. 

Then they come out of warp and everything goes to shit. And somehow Leonard has gone from being a fully-trained and experienced doctor, and almost graduated cadet, to CMO of a starship waging a battle where they’re outgunned and possibly outsmarted. He has injured crew and injured Vulcan refugees, and he barely has time to think about them, let alone himself or Jim. 

It feels like days until it’s over. The red alerts and the angry yelling and the threats and risks and, finally, a near miss so close that Leonard can’t think about it without feeling a shiver of dread. They flit back and forth across the galaxy, and then when it’s really over and they’ve won the battle, they begin the slow warp-less trudge home. In reality only a few hours have passed. Leonard is exhausted, but he injects himself with stims and operates on Pike the best he can, and when he’s done, and he steps out of surgery Jim’s there. 

“Captain,” Leonard says, and despite everything, a smile spreads across Jim’s face. 

He likes the title, and Leonard can’t blame him. He’s certainly earned it. 

“We need to talk,” Jim says, and Leonard officially takes himself off shift, and they track down the quarters he’s been assigned. A few wrong turns later they’re in his room. It’s tiny, but serviceable, and Leonard kicks off his boots and falls down on the single bed with a groan. 

Jim sits in the only chair and looks at him. 

“We did it,” he says. “Bones, we did it.”

“You did it,” Leonard says. He can hear the exhaustion seeping into his voice. If he’s tired, Jim must be dead on his feet. 

“The crew did it,” Jim corrects. “All of us. Every single one of us played an important role. We’re just cadets, and look what we did.” Then he yawns, the jaw-cracking kind that wracks through his whole body. 

Leonard shifts over in the bed. It’s not exactly roomy, but it’ll do. 

“Lie down,” he says, and Jim raises an eyebrow at him. 

“I’m not fucking propositioning you,” Leonard bites out hotly. “I’m being your doctor, and your friend. You need to lie down before you fall asleep where you are, slide out of that uncomfortable chair, and give yourself a concussion. That I’ll have to get out of bed to treat.”

Jim smirks, but bends to unlace his boots. 

“You’re bossy when you’re tired, Bones,” he says, and Leonard rolls his eyes. 

“You say that like don’t know me. You know my faults, Jim. Just like I know yours.”

“Oh yeah?” Jim sounds curious, but Leonard doesn’t feel like humouring him. 

“I’d list them, but I hear it’ll only take us a week to limp to the nearest starbase for repairs, and I’d need more time than that.”

Jim sits down gingerly on the bed, and Leonard rolls on his side to give even more room. He watches Jim lie down, careful not to let their limbs come into contact. 

“For god's sake, Jim,” Leonard says, roughly grabbing his hip and pulling him back. Their bodies touch, and if he were any less exhausted it might end embarrassingly, but for now Leonard just wants them to be comfortable. 

“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” Jim says, wriggling a little to get more comfortable.

Leonard grunts at him questioningly. 

“If you propositioned me,” Jim explains. His voice is quiet and Leonard wishes they were face to face, so he could see Jim’s expression. “I’ve been waiting for you to do it, for a really long time. I don’t know if that means you don’t want to, or if you’re as scared as I am.”

Leonard breathes out a sigh and it ruffles the hair at the nape of Jim’s neck, making him shiver. 

“The latter,” he says. “Definitely the latter.”

“Oh,” Jim says. “Good.”

Leonard waits for Jim to say something else, but the room stays silent. And it doesn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep. 

When he opens his eyes, he sees Jim’s blue ones staring back. At some point Jim had turned around so they’re nose to nose, and he’s studying Leonard intently.

“Morning, Bones,” Jim says quietly. 

“Jim,” Leonard says, wondering if he sounds as surprised as he feels. He’d expected Jim to disappear before he woke up, or for it to have maybe been a stim-induced dream. 

“I thought about you,” Jim says. He lifts his head, resting his chin on his hand, so he can look down at Leonard. “I thought about you when I dived out of the shuttle. And when Spock shoved me in that pod. And pretty much every moment that I wasn’t fighting for my life or everyone else’s.”

Leonard swallows around the lump that’s forming in his throat. 

“You know how they say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone? It was bad enough when I thought I was going to lose you. I don’t know what I’d do if it actually happened.”

Jim’s free hand lifts up and touches Leonard’s cheek. It’s light, like a butterfly flitting against his skin. Like the kiss Jim had pressed on him less than a week earlier. It feels like a lifetime ago, and Leonard misses the time when the biggest concern in his life was that his best friend didn’t want to sleep with him. 

Except maybe he did. Maybe he does. 

“I didn’t think I believed in soulmates,” Jim says. “I thought this was a bunch of bullshit.” He points at his wrist. 

“I thought finding my soulmate would be easy,” Leonard confesses. 

“I’m sorry I’m not easy.” Jim looks away, and it makes Leonard laugh. 

“Don’t apologise for that. I’m hardly easy myself. And I think maybe it’d be boring if it was too easy. If we just slotted together and accepted our fate without question. Neither of us are like that. We wouldn’t be ourselves if we’d gone that way.”

Jim smiles. “I said a long time ago that I wasn’t ready. I think I am, now.”

Leonard looks at Jim’s smile. He looks at the curve of his mouth, at the fullness of his bottom lip. 

Leonard’s had to be braver than he’d ever imagined in the past 24 hours. They all have. 

He doesn’t see the point in stopping now. 

He reaches up and tangles his fingers in Jim’s hair, tugging him down until their mouths meet. He kisses Jim, and Jim kisses back and, as one, they sigh. 

Leonard knows then that Jim feels exactly like he does. This tug, this pull, this connection between them. This sense of something being right. And the tingling pleasure that buzzes along his skin, arcing through his nervous system. 

“Are we really doing this?” Jim asks. His pupils are dilated and Leonard really hopes it’s from desire and not the concussion he’d threatened Jim with the night before. 

“I’m willing if you are,” Leonard says back. He means it to be lighthearted, but there’s a truth to it, too. He needs Jim to be completely on board with this. 

“We can’t go back,” Jim says. “If we do this, we can’t go back to how we were. And I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Leonard nods, then kisses him again. “Then we both need to make sure we don’t do anything to fuck this up.”

Jim laughs, pressing his face against Leonard’s neck. “We’re doomed.”

“So was Earth,” Leonard points out. “But somehow we saved it. If we can do that, this should be a cakewalk.”

“I’m going to remind you of that,” Jim says. “Way in the future when we’re old men, living in a log cabin in the woods somewhere, holding hands in front of the fire.”

Leonard smiles. “You say that like you’ve imagined the future before.”

Jim looks surprised. “Haven’t you? From the moment we met, I’ve been thinking about what’ll happen. Where we’ll end up. The lives we’ll live together.”

Leonard’s breath catches in his throat. He hasn’t really let himself look at the future in years. Not since the tests had come back to say he and Jocelyn would never be parents, and his marriage had started to crack and crumble. It hadn’t occurred to him that he even could. 

But Jim had thought about it. Jim had thought about a future for just the two of them. It makes his heart ache and his brain buzz and his stomach churn, all with relief. Jim does want this, just as much as Leonard does. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about it,” he says quietly, pulling Jim in closer. 

Jim’s smile is wide and easy and open. 

“Later,” Jim says, and presses close to kiss him again. 


End file.
